


The Shadow at Whipstaff

by CMarieBohley_Author



Category: Casper (1995)
Genre: Childhood Sweethearts, Comedy, Disney, Disney Movies, F/M, Falling In Love, Ghost Hunters, Ghosts, Halloween, Haunted Houses, Love at First Sight, Mystery, Slow Romance, Teen Crush, Teen Romance, Teenagers, Whipstaff Manor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:01:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27220894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMarieBohley_Author/pseuds/CMarieBohley_Author
Summary: Kat doesn't believe in ghosts.Her dad, a seemingly-crazy 'ghost shrink,' has dragged her from state to state for years, unwilling to let go of his deceased wife. It's only when he gets a call from the materialistic Ms. Carrigan that the Harveys come face to face with a band of crazy spirits, and the shadow of a boy with unfinished business.This is a classic remake of the 1995 movie 'Casper,' but the protagonists are a bit older, the ghosts are more human-like, and some daring twists will be thrown into the mix.Hold onto your heads everyone, as we take a trip back to the haunted Whipstaff Manor...
Relationships: Kat Harvey/Casper McFadden
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. The Boy Who Was

Casper knew that there _must_ have been a life before this one, but if there was, he couldn't remember it. Not even the vaguest remembrance of mortality lingered in his mind, no matter how long he searched for it. Sometimes, if he concentrated hard, he could almost feel the tender stroke of the wind on his face, or the smooth coolness of the floor beneath his feet. But this was merely an illusion. It was like when amputees had random instances of tingling in a limb that wasn't there anymore. Phantom sensation, they called it. Phantom indeed.

Whipstaff Manor must have been his home before he died, because he could remember no other place of residence. Not only this, but a sense of nostalgia rushed over him whenever he tried to leave, so he never found the strength to. Not even the wrath and boisterousness of his uncles could keep him away. 

So he stayed in that lonely mansion; not alive, but not truly dead, either. The shadow of a boy who had once been... what? Funny? Clever? Smart? Kind? He wished that he could remember. Maybe if he could figure out who he had been, he could figure out who he was now. 

_That's my unfinished business._ He stared out the attic window and a barren field stared back at him. _Figuring out who I am. Otherwise, why wouldn't I have crossed over?_

He turned away from the empty world outside and faced his dusty room, filled with boxes that made him homesick for a life that he couldn't remember. He couldn't make himself go through them, nor yet throw them away. So there they sat, untouched, likely for eternity. But they were precious. They made Casper feel connected to his old self. The person he was when his soul had a body. Without it, he felt vulnerable. It wasn't as though he could be hurt... not physically, at least. But it was like he was the most raw, uncensored version of himself, and this is what scared him.

Once Casper longed for sunlight. When the occasional visitor came to Whipstaff or people passed by on the street, he wanted to shout, "Hello! I'm Casper. What's your name?" But as time passed and rumors spread, people began to give the manor a wider berth. Casper grew more resigned, and his loneliness grew deeper and more agonizing. He slunk back into the shadows that had called to him for so long, and pretended that the world beyond the window didn't exist. 

But every once and a while he grew curious again and peered through the glass, telling himself that this time it would be different. This time he would find a point to all of this. 

And then he did. He wasn't sure of the day, the month, or even the year, but it didn't matter. Because now, for the first moment in what felt like lifetimes, he wanted to be seen. He wanted the sunlight to engulf him, to let every inch of his transparent soul radiate with its purity and mystique. Every doubt went silent and every hope surged with power and sureness.

Because this was the moment when he first laid eyes on Kat Harvey.


	2. The Arrival

_Hello, creepy house,_ Kat thought as she gazed up at the looming manor.

There wasn't anything particularly horrific about it. No severed heads posted on the spiked fence, or gravestones placed randomly about the courtyard. Still, there was something eerie about it. Maybe it was the way the shadows huddled on the walls, even where they were exposed to sunlight, or the trees that surrounded the driveway and reached for her with contorted, black branches.

And then, she had yet to see the inside. Who knew what terrors awaited her once that bulky, ancient door shut behind her? Maybe she didn't believe in ghosts, as her dad did... but that didn't keep her imagination from running wild.

She turned to look at him, hoping that he would change his mind about the whole thing and they could turn back now. After all, what was the point? The unprecedented faith that he still wouldn't let go of led him to every corner of the nation, and all it brought was disappointment. Finally she had drawn the line, naming this case the last straw. The two of them had made an agreement: If this was another dead end, that would be it. No more ghost hunts. No more chasing fantasy. No more moving every two weeks. For once in Kat's life, she could live normally. She could watch as a house became a home. She could make friends. _Real_ friends. 

"So... are we gonna go inside?" Kat hinted. 

James attempted to hide his nervousness with a smile, but it shown through. "That might be a good idea."

He reached for the door in slow motion, and after several moments his hand grasped the old brass knob. He gave Kat a smile that seemed more intended to reassure himself than her, and pushed the door open. The creak that followed was deafening in the silence, and Kat winced. She stepped inside cautiously and scanned the room, her eyes widening as she took it in. Though it was dusty and, quite frankly, _old_ , there was something beautiful about it. _Elegant_. The staircase was grand and carpeted, the ceiling high and arching. Strange tapestries and medieval crests adorned the walls, which were clad with faded blue wallpaper. The floor was made of worn tiles, which were a dulling green. It was as if the color was being slowly leached out of them after so many years of neglect. 

"With a bit of cleaning, this place could be pretty nice," James whispered, and his flashlight beam hovered on a knight's helmet on the far side of the room.

"A lot of cleaning," Kat corrected. "I guess I should find a room. Once that doesn't need too much work," she added. She hitched her bag further up on her shoulder, and ignored the rapid pounding of her heart as she started up the stairs. She blocked out the morbid thoughts that threatened to send her sprinting for the exit, and instead focused on the sound of her own footsteps. 

The hallway she chose was long, and the end seemed more distant with each step she took. Hollow echoes and creaks followed her as she went, and suddenly she had the peculiar feeling that the walls were caving in on her. The soft patter of her footfalls quickly escalated into heavy pounds as she started to run, and the surrounding noises grew nearer and more pronounced. She made a sharp turn into a nearby room and slammed the door shut behind her, and leaned back against the wood. Pulse still unhealthily quick, she closed her eyes and worked at calming her breaths. 

Finally her heart seemed to return to its normal, steady beat, and she allowed herself a better look at the room. There was a bed on the far left side, upon which was a plump pillow and some moth-eaten blankets. Beside it was a small table, with an unlit candle and a clock seemed to think time had frozen at three. A few other pieces of old furniture sat about the room, and a closet door stood open to reveal a shelf stacked with books and clothing. 

_This will have to do, I guess._

With a sigh, Kat pulled her bedding out of her suitcase and began to pull the old blankets off of the bed. Once it was re-made, she went to the closet and found some hangers for her clothes. When she did simple jobs like this, her mind went into auto-control and she didn't have to think at all. She was just hanging up her last jacket when suddenly the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and her muscles tensed. Her brain grew alert and her eyes vigilant as she turned to look over her shoulder. She was met with only the room, everything as it was before. She forced her gaze back to the task on hand, but the uneasy feeling that had settled over her wouldn't go away.

The feeling, she realized with a sharp inhale, that someone was watching her.


	3. Idle Dreaming

Casper had never suspected that there could be something as fascinating as watching a person dream.

When he first entered Kat's bedroom, he only planned to stay for a minute. Just to check on her and make sure that she had settled in nicely. 

Then he noticed the way her eyelashes fluttered the slightest bit when she breathed. He looked closer, then, and observed her more extensively than he had before. His eyes traced the lines that made up her face. The sharp angles of her cheekbones. The slightly upturned slope of her button nose. The perfectly defined curves of her lips.

 _You're a creep, you know,_ he scolded himself silently. _How would she feel if she knew you were watching her sleep?  
_

But even better judgement couldn't make him turn away. His mind raced as he tried to decipher the slight changes of her expression. What was she dreaming about? If only they could dream together.

He still lingered by her bedside when sunlight spilled over the horizon, and he knew that it was time to go.

With great care, Casper inched closer until their faces were just inches apart. He tilted his head slightly to the side, searching Kat's sleeping face for some clue as to why he felt so drawn to her. There had to be some rational explanation for the way he was feeling. It wasn't as if he knew her, or as if he'd spoken to her and found that they had something in common. 

And yet, somehow, it felt as if he'd known her for his entire existence.

He reached his transparent fingers up to the side of her face, knowing that he couldn't feel her, but still longing to brush her hair from her forehead.

Kat's eyes snapped open.

In an instant, Casper was gone.


End file.
